


Celebration

by elusivelover_archivist



Category: Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Curiosity, First Time, Friendship, Gap Filler, M/M, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 03:01:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16966455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elusivelover_archivist/pseuds/elusivelover_archivist
Summary: By Cory ParsonsUnexpected rewards after the Yavin battle.





	Celebration

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Cara Loup, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Elusive Lover](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Elusive_Lover_\(Star_Wars_archive\)) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Elusive Lover’s collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ElusiveLover).

“Hey!” Han’s shout pierced a cacophony of voices and humming engines as he came sprinting across the hangar. The Rebel pilots moved out of his path. 

Heart leaping high, Luke released the Princess who’d hugged him ecstatically and flung himself across the distance. A wild joy permeated him to the very core, and he felt close to bursting with it. Unexpected victory, a sense of fulfillment after starved years in the Tatooine desert, and the energy of high flight all thrummed in his bones together with the breathless cheers and laughter around him. They’d done the impossible. Never again would the Death Star lash out to vaporize entire planets. They were alive, invincible. 

But when Luke threw his arms around the tall Corellian, the gladness shifted focus. He’d believed that Han was special — and he’d been right. Pride and relief could scarcely begin to describe the upsurge of wild sentiments that took him. 

Luke felt an equally powerful excitement from the other man as they gripped each other, confirming their survival against the odds. Nothing more, and nothing less. They’d survived... together. 

Luke grinned widely when Han swatted at him. For a short, strange moment, he felt sparks ignite in the pit of his stomach, shooting another wave of adrenaline through his veins. 

Flushed and exuberant, Han grinned back at him and suddenly looked a lot younger than his actual years. Arrogance and cool calculation had disappeared so utterly from his expression that it startled Luke. Only when Leia joined them did they release each other. But something lingered, and Luke sensed it with the same amazed clarity which had suffused him when he’d felt the touch of the Force. A connection between himself and Han, a slender thread charged with electrifying power and pride.

* * *

It was getting late, the brass had retired, and the formal celebration was about to derail into an outright party. Someone had wired the hall’s outdated public address system into subspace radio, picking up the pulsing electronic rhythms and tunes from a neighboring star system, and most everybody had a buzz on.

Sprawling in his seat, Han had draped the heavy medal over the back of his chair. Someone handed him another beer that he accepted without interrupting his tale for a moment. Around him, a crowd of pilots had gathered to be entertained by his pirate’s yarn.

Across the distance, Luke couldn’t catch a word, nor did he care. All he noticed was the glitter of pleasure in Han’s eyes, the smooth gestures of his lean hands and the light sheen of sweat below his throat where the white shirt had been unbuttoned to expose sun-browned skin. 

Threepio hovered at Luke’s shoulder, delivering a long speech that moved randomly from one subject to the next, but Luke wasn’t really listening. Interjecting the appropriate noises from time to time, he offered all the encouragement Threepio needed. Having imbibed his own liberal share of beers, Luke felt the sizzle of mild intoxication in his blood. Perhaps that explained his odd fascination with the sight of Han Solo on the other side of the room. 

Luke realized that he’d never stared at another man like he presently stared at the Corellian, but no sense of embarrassment or even surprise followed on the heels of that passing thought. His attention was drawn by the natural attraction that made Han the very center of the party, so what? As he examined the notion, Luke decided he had a right to feel this way. Instead of departing from the Yavin system, Han had turned back to cover for him, and for that Luke owed him his life. As if they belonged to each other now, and it seemed just... perfect.

Briefly, Luke’s thoughts drifted towards Leia who’d left the party hours ago, long before the third moon rose above the jungles of Yavin. For a time, the Princess of Alderaan had occupied the center of all his confused thoughts and sentiments as Luke tried to put up with a succession of fast changes. Only a few days ago, he’d been fiercely jealous when Han hinted that Leia had made quite an impression on him. _What do you think, a Princess and a guy like me—?_

Now it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Luke smiled when he saw Han throw his head back and laugh, raking a hand through his dark hair. Leia didn’t stand a chance of resisting if the Corellian seriously decided to turn his charms on her.

The notion brought up fragmented images from some of the holo-vids Luke had watched with friends back in Anchorhead. Images of love and romance floating in a sphere somewhere above the bleak routine of moisture farms and long hours spent in dusty repair shops.

Muscles slanting with the firm grip of tanned arms, strong hands moving smoothly over paler skin, dark hair falling over a bared shoulder — images which had worked their way into Luke’s fantasies rekindled as he watched, rearranging themselves playfully. A trickle of heat journeyed across Luke’s skin. He frowned at himself. In his belly, a strange, intense pleasure gathered and grew, but it bore no resemblance to the awkward delight he’d felt when Leia had kissed his cheek and wished him luck. He couldn’t have touched her the way Han would. The way he and Han...

Another exclamation from Threepio cut into Luke’s thoughts and returned his drifting mind to the noise and motion of the party. Feeling slightly disconnected, Luke shrugged. Maybe his mental processes had stopped making sense, but if he wasn’t entitled to some inconsequential dreaming after a day like this, then when? 

After concerning himself with the practical problem of obtaining his next beer, Luke strode over to the wide-open portals.

* * *

Outside the ancient walls of the Massassi temple spread the nocturnal jungle, silvered by moonlight, alive with the trilling, chirping conversations of alien birds. Luke inhaled the scented air while his eyes swept upward to the stars. He’d never felt so awake before, as if a new life claimed every molecule of his body. As if he’d somehow tapped into a source of limitless energy.

His senses vaguely registered the sound of approaching steps, but when a warm hand came to rest on his shoulder, Luke gave a little start. 

He turned and found Han’s eyes studying him with subdued amusement. 

“What’re you doin’ out here?” Han asked. “Couldn’t find anybody to keep you company?”

“I don’t mind being alone for a while,” Luke said without giving it any thought.

“Need some time to sort out everything that’s happened?” Han guessed. “I could understand that. If you wanna be on your own, I’ll—” 

“No,” Luke stopped him, “that’s fine.” 

He realized that he had in fact been waiting for this moment all night. Since the Death Star had been ripped apart in a brilliant wave of destruction, they’d both been engulfed in the high tides of exultation, and something had been left unsaid. Something as banal and immense as _thank you for saving my life_.

“We could go for a little walk,” Han suggested casually. “It’s gettin’ too crowded in there.” 

In silence, Luke followed him through the shadows cast by massive pillars that structured the temple’s facade until they’d reached the eastern watchtower. The footpath they’d followed disappeared between high grass and clustering blueferns that looked almost black in the night. 

Turning back to Han, Luke saw the moonlight reflect in his eyes and said, “I’ve been waiting for a chance to tell you...”

Han cocked his head, encouraging him to continue without a word, amusement twitching on his mouth. 

“I’m not sure I can say it. I feel so... alive.” 

“You sure look it, kid,” Han returned. “Guess I did the right thing.” 

“More than that,” Luke said emphatically, but he lost track of his thoughts momentarily. _Thanks_ would do just fine, he told himself. “I’ll never be able to... you know, thank you enough, make it up to you.”

“Hey, I enjoyed every a second of it, it’s been fun!” Although Han’s tone was flippant as usual, a subliminal change had come over his expression. “Still...” He paused. “Well, if you think you owe me for protecting your butt...” The glint of speculation in his eyes was complemented by the rough velvet of his voice.

“Yeah. Definitely.” Luke wondered at the tight, breathless sound of his own voice and froze, struck mute when Han lifted a hand and the tip of a finger brushed Luke’s cheek, drawing a tentative line down his jaw. 

“Yeah?” Han let his hand sink slowly, dark eyes smoldering with sudden intensity. “I’m sure I could think of something.”

The implication was clear enough. Luke turned away fast to hide a furious blush. He stared into darkness, but no helpful thought relieved his floundering mind. Reason had simply begged out, allowing his body to take over with a rush of strange, diffuse heat. 

“Hey, kid,” Han’s deep voice broke the silence. “Didn’t mean to offend you, okay? I guess people on Tatooine aren’t—”

“Whatever they are, they’re not ignorant,” Luke interrupted him sharply. Annoyance had taken the edge off his initial embarrassment, and yet it faltered at Han’s next words. 

“Sorry if I got you wrong,” Han said in off-handed tones. “And I probably shouldn’t be talkin’ to you this way. It’s the company I’ve been keepin’, I guess. You don’t want to — that’s okay. Let’s just forget about it, huh?” 

He could relax now. Breathe out and allow the clenching tenseness to fade from his stomach. Luke told himself that he should turn, give Han the reassuring grin he expected and offer some appropriate quip. The only trouble was that he couldn’t. 

“Luke?” 

Han’s voice was closer to his ear, Han’s breath stirred his hair, and Luke felt a very delicate shiver run down the side of his throat. 

_You don’t want to_... what? 

To be touched, to be held by this man in a way no other man had ever touched him? All too clearly Luke recalled the pressure of Han’s arms around him when they’d met again in the hangar, that tight hug which had lasted only a second before they pulled apart to look at each other. 

A half-step behind him, Han shifted position — almost nervously, Luke thought, or was it only that Han was making him nervous? 

“What about the... company you’ve been keeping?” he asked. It felt as if he’d taken the first step out into uncertain territory, and he needed some landmark before he could decide on his next move. 

“You’ve seen Mos Eisley. Most of the places I’ve been in the past ten years are pretty much like that... or worse.” Han snorted derisively. “Rough places where nobody cares about rules and proper conduct. If there’s something you want, you don’t go makin’ a fuss about it. You just say it, straight out.”

“And I’m—”

“Yeah,” Han answered shortly, all matter of fact. 

“I just... I’d never thought about it,” Luke managed after the better part of a silent eternity had passed. Well, now he definitely _was_ thinking about it, Luke admitted as he caught himself wondering about Han’s touch, fantasizing the pressure of his mouth and hands. 

Long fingers moved very gently across his hair. “Want me to help you make up your mind?” Han asked. His voice had taken on a husky edge and, trailing downward, his fingers brushed the nape of Luke’s neck and traveled slowly around. 

He nodded mutely. 

The questing hand continued with easy confidence, slipping across his throat, diving inside his shirt to make contact with a thundering heartbeat. Luke breathed in sharply. 

Han took a small step forward and without another word offered the support of his tall frame. With closed eyes, Luke leaned back into him and let it happen. Together with a faint odor of engine oil and soap, the warmth of Han’s body suffused him. 

“Yes,” he muttered with delay. 

Han did not rush the breach in his defenses. While one hand toyed lazily with the fasteners of Luke’s shirt, the other simply came to rest on his hip. Luke bit his lip when his body reacted to the contact with an instant erection. Everything went out of focus, and the essence of him dissolved into sensation, concentrating where Han touched him. It felt right. Like something he’d always known would happen.

Every ordinary law and custom had been suspended tonight, and they could simply be close to one another. As close as they wanted.

Luke took another deep breath and held it in an effort to control his reactions. He wasn’t just going to float away on this surge of unexpected pleasure. He was making it his choice, something he wouldn’t have to regret.

“What d’you mean, you got me wrong?” Luke murmured when his breath had settled a little. A strong arm wound around his waist and pulled him close with sudden possessiveness. 

“I kinda noticed the way you were lookin’ at me.”

Luke felt the touch of Han’s mouth against his hair. The firm grip around his waist sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Lucky for me.” Han laughed softly. “So stop thinking now.” 

His fingers had slipped the fasteners apart and dipped inside Luke’s open shirt to seek out a nipple that hardened rapidly under the lightest touch of Han’s fingertips. Luke pressed toward the caress.

“Yeah, that’s better,” Han murmured, rubbing a little harder. His other hand drifted lightly across Luke’s groin and found undeniable proof of his arousal. Luke almost flinched at the sting of heat when Han’s fingers traveled along the outline of his rapidly swelling erection. Thinking certainly became more difficult by the second.

Yielding to the flow of sensation, Luke pressed back to feel Han’s body against the length of him, the heave of his chest that came with every breath, the lean thighs pressed to his own. And an unmistakable hardness, rubbing against the small of his back. It hit Luke like a plasma discharge firing through every nerve, as if he hadn’t seriously expected Han to get excited, no matter what he said...

 _He really wants me_ , Luke thought. In a distant corner of his mind lingered some rationality, and it turned away in embarrassment. _Terminally naive, Skywalker. What do you think this is? Some kind of charity?_ But the rest of him didn’t care. 

He pushed back, hips rocking. Han made a small noise, halfway between a gasp and a surprised grunt, and gripped him closer.

Dizzying excitement encroached on Luke’s breath, heat lanced into his groin as if he’d tapped into a new source of power. He let his head fall back against Han’s shoulder. There was a rhythm now, gradually climbing as they moved, locked together by Han’s arms around him. Luke wrapped his fingers firmly around Han’s wrist, to encourage the rhythm and pressure of his fondling hand. 

He relived the power of acceleration, the kick of savage speed, hot adrenaline waves tossing him from primal fear straight into careless excitement, rushing headlong into the unknown — and Luke could see the walls of the Death Star trench trapping him as he raced towards the point of annihilation, he relived the white pang of panic he’d felt when he knew himself to be entirely on his own... 

Sensations wrenched through him, and he was nearing overload. But once again, Han was there to hold him steady.

Luke turned and flung his arms around Han’s neck, crushing him close. 

“What, kid?” 

“You saved my life.” Luke framed the angular face with both hands and leaned up before he knew what he was doing. Han’s breath blew warmth against his mouth, but he found a certain reluctance in the dark eyes, forcing him to pause and consider. He’d meant to kiss Han, but maybe that went against the rules, maybe kissing wasn’t part of the deal.

“It means a lot,” Luke whispered, surprised at the confusion in Han’s gaze. “And I want—”

“This?” Han caressed his lips with the blunt tip of his thumb, then leaned over, brushing Luke’s mouth with his own.

Consideration ended immediately. Pulling Han against himself, Luke clung to his mouth and didn’t for a second wonder if he was doing it right, like he’d wondered during occasional experimentations with the girls on Tatooine. He kissed Han until the warm lips opened, and their tongues met for brief, questioning flickers, reflecting explosively in the pit of Luke’s stomach.

Han grinned when he let go, but there was no touch of arrogance to it this time. “Whew, kid,” he breathed, “you really go for it when there’s something you want, huh?”

“Yeah,” Luke said, ignoring the rush of heat into his face. “Something wrong with that?”

“No.” The grin faded as Han touched his mouth again, then wrapped his hand around Luke’s jaw. “But go on like this and my knees might just go weak, who knows.” The corner of his mouth lifted in an ironic smile. “Care for a roll in the grass with me?”

* * *

The grass rustled softly, and long blades tickled Luke’s skin when Han pushed the shirt down his shoulders. He pressed his lips to the side of Han’s throat and clung to him, mesmerized by the gentleness of those supple hands, roaming across his bare back to charge every nerve with pure pleasure.

“Tell me something?” Luke murmured, lifting his head to look at Han. 

“What?”

“If I’d said no... would you be spending the night with someone else?” 

A hard glitter appeared in Han’s eyes. “Maybe.” 

“Sorry I asked,” Luke muttered. Embarrassed all over at his own naiveté, he averted his face.

“And maybe not,” Han added in a different tone. “Hey, kid...” He cupped Luke’s chin, forcing eye contact. “You want this to be special, don’t you? Well, it is. What’re you thinkin’ — that I don’t really care who I’m with?” 

Luke shook his head. “That’s just the point. You’re special.”

Dark eyes narrowed in surprise. “I’m... flattered, I guess,” Han said slowly. “Listen, I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” Luke cut in fast, and it was true. He’d caught a dark glimmer of emotion in Han’s eyes that turned his stomach to water and promised himself not to ask any further questions. 

Leaning over, he kissed Han with fervor more than skill. His fingers tangled in the dark hair, and Han pulled him closer until Luke was half-sprawled across the taller man.

“You really like kissing, don’t you?” Han murmured, his lips still close to Luke’s, words and breath like a subtle echo of the caresses his hands stroked down Luke’s back. 

“With you...” Lowering his gaze to the sensuous curve of Han’s mouth, Luke was at a loss for words. But Han probably wouldn’t care to hear all about the dizzy excitement and confusion he felt anyway. 

“Yeah,” Han muttered unaccountably. 

His arms locked tight around Luke’s waist, forcing his breath out in a gasp that was stifled with the next kiss. And this time, Han conquered him completely, his tongue playing across Luke’s lips, then invading deeply to explore him with ruthless determination. Moaning into Han’s mouth, Luke pressed against him, his excitement a clenching ache deep in his belly. When Han allowed him another breath of air, he buried his face at Han’s shoulder and rocked himself against the tall Corellian, intensifying the friction between them, his own pleasure deepened by Han’s increasingly rapid breathing.

“Luke — hey, Luke, wait...”

It took a while until the lowered voice filtered through his abandon. Catching his breath, Luke lifted his head and swallowed.

“We can take it slow,” Han said, affectionate amusement mixing with a darker glint in his eyes. “Gimme something more to remember when I’m gone, huh?”

Luke caught the intimation of self-mockery in Han’s voice, and in the flash of a second realized that Han was trying to control his own arousal as well. “You’re not leaving anytime soon, are you?” he challenged.

“Well, I gotta pay a visit to Jabba sometime, get him to call his goons off...” Han indicated a shrug, but his hands were gliding down Luke’s waist to curve around his backside. “If the Rebellion’s got work for me to do after that... and if there’s another reward in it for me...”

“We’ll find work for you,” Luke said with determination, briefly wondering just what kind of reward Han had in mind. 

In the middle of all those unexpected hazards and entanglements, he’d been taken aback by Han’s unabashed materialism, but life under the auspices of Uncle Owen’s sobriety had also drummed some practical sense into him. Nobody survived on ideals and enthusiasm alone, and just like the struggling moisture farmers of Tatooine, Han needed to support himself. For the time being, his promise to return was good enough for Luke, no matter what Han’s private motives were.

“You could come along to Tatooine if you want,” Han suggested, while his hands slid down the back of Luke’s thighs and stirred delicious shivers down his legs. “Though it never struck me as the kind of place anyone’d miss. Got any friends back there?”

“No real friends,” Luke answered with some delay. Tatooine couldn’t have been further from his mind than it was now, when Han’s fingers trailed lazily up the inside of his thighs and the dark fire of Han’s eyes searched his face. “No one I really care about.”

“Guess that means no sweetheart either.”

“No.” Luke laughed softly. 

“What’s so funny?” Han asked, his hands quieting momentarily. 

“I’m funny.” Luke felt a grin steal up and a strange new sense of being totally at ease, as if the closeness with Han had somehow taken away the combined weight of embarrassments he’d carried around for years. “I wasn’t really interested, if you want to know the truth. I mean I... I got interested on occasion, but it never seemed to mean all that much.” He shook his head. “The day after I’d turned thirteen, my uncle gave me a certain datatape to study and a clap on the shoulder. Along with the advice to take it in stride and not let anybody talk me into anything before I’m ready.”

“...and then it’s gonna make a man outta ya,” Han drawled, imitating a fatherly tone. 

“Yeah, although another man was hardly what he had in mind.” 

“Too damn bad,” Han said, his eyes sparkling, and his hands resumed their journey. “I’m not about to back off just ‘cause your uncle wouldn’t approve.”

“Don’t even think of it,” Luke muttered, hot and confused all over again at the feel of Han’s skillfully exploring hands and the mere sight of him. 

In the soft, grey light of the nocturnal jungle, his hair mussed and his face slightly flushed, Han looked... beautiful. Luke could think of no other word, and oddly, he felt a small pang. He could see the loneliness surrounding Han, his cocky confidence only one of its facets. 

Before Han could ask him another question, Luke brought their mouths together and kissed him with all the passion of that breathless moment. During the nineteen years he’d spent on Tatooine, he’d never really felt as if he belonged there — or anywhere — and perhaps Han knew that particular feeling too.

“What, kid?” Han asked softly, but Luke just shook his head and proceeded to trail kisses down his throat and chest.

They were so close now, breath and heartbeat following the same irresistible rhythm. Closing his eyes, Luke concentrated on the sensation of strong hands stroking up the back of his thighs to rub and squeeze his buttocks. He squirmed in Han’s grip, his breath escaping in shallow gasps.

Han entwined their legs and pressed up against him. Hips lifting again and again, he met the rhythmic motions, and Luke was once again ready to lose himself to the waves of overpowering pleasure when Han suddenly gripped his shoulders and reversed their positions.

Reaching between them, Luke cupped the hard bulge at Han’s groin. “I want to touch you.”

“Yeah, let’s get those damn clothes off,” Han muttered, his fingers fumbling with the clasp of Luke’s belt, then stopping abruptly when Luke undid the fasteners of his pants and reached inside. 

Thoughtless desire and curiosity prompted every move, but he still hadn’t expected the pleasure of touching Han like this. Gliding his fingers up and down the hard shaft, Luke felt the tremulous pulse under velvet skin and instinctively knew Han’s reactions just like he knew his own, found the right pressure and the sensitive places, the caresses that brought stifled groans from Han’s throat. 

Winded and dizzy, he looked up into Han’s face.

Han had closed his eyes tightly, his expression a powerful blend of need and the struggle to control. “Luke — kid—” he rasped and pushed himself into Luke’s stroking hand.

Luke forgot to breathe at the intensity that swept Han’s face.

His head tossed back, Han seized him abruptly close and dug his fingers into Luke’s hips as the tension broke. 

Luke surrendered himself into the harsh embrace, his own heart speeding when he felt Han spill into his hand. All his senses filled with the overwhelming togetherness of this moment, and it stirred a violent tremor in his chest. He turned his face into Han’s shoulder and felt a shiver hunt across his bare skin.

After a few moments of complete silence, Han relaxed his grip and blew out a long, shuddering breath. 

“Oh, goddamnit—” He broke off with something between a gasp and a chuckle. “That sure wasn’t how I’d planned things to go...”

Luke brushed a kiss against the heaving chest before lifting his head. “It was... better than anything I could’ve imagined.” He smiled self-consciously at his less than adequate choice of words. 

But Han’s expression softened, and he tipped Luke’s chin up with two fingers. “Yeah?” A slight grin pulled at his mouth. “Just you wait until I’m finished with you, kid.”

More than ready to comply, Luke found himself pushed back firmly into the grass, and the lissom blades whispered against his nakedness like secret associates of Han’s designs. 

“Close your eyes,” Han murmured, blowing a short kiss against Luke’s mouth. 

In the semi-darkness behind his closed lids, the sensations of Han’s roaming mouth and hands gave Luke directions, the flares of bright energy they stirred from his nerves almost like visible sparks of light.

Warm lips lowered, brushing his chest, then darted brief, moist kisses across his abdomen. Luke sucked in slow, deep breaths of Han’s scent mingling with the exotic odors of the jungle while the teasing lips continued their journey across his burning skin. Trailing down his belly, then, as Han pushed his pants and briefs out of the way, skimming the ridge of his hipbone.

When Luke felt the warmth of a wet mouth close around the most sensitive part of himself, he went rigid, straining to control the immediate surge of galvanizing heat into his groin. But however much he tried to fight it and prolong the pleasure, the fire spread all the way through his body.

His eyes snapped open, and Luke dug his fingers into the grass, the distant glimmer of stars reeling overhead between the shadow-silhouettes of giant trees, joining the dance of electricity through his nervous system.

“Han, I’m—” Luke moaned when uncontrollable sensations took his breath before he could finish the warning. 

He lost himself to the fire racing along his nerves, pulling his entire body into the glorious abandon of sudden climax. He bucked and thrust up blindly, pulse and breath and the pangs of deep pleasure all synchronized at Han’s command over his body.

And it did feel like flying, like scattering himself among the stars and through the immensity of night. 

When thought began to stir again fuzzily in some corner of his mind, Han was beside him, and Luke turned into his embrace. Reality seemed to be shifting all around him, centered anew on the warmth of Han’s body and the unreadable expression in his eyes.

It had all started with a deal of sorts, Luke reminded himself. An agreement made only for the duration of one night, or perhaps even less than that, but a sudden storm of emotion threatened to overrun that knowledge. He quenched an urgent impulse to hug Han close and kiss him again.

As his mind cleared, Luke could see the distance return to Han’s eyes. A measure of calculation. Control. The air of loneliness and self-sufficiency that surrounded Han. For a second, it seemed as if their very lives had merged and were slowly disengaging, separating again to drift apart. Luke’s throat tightened. 

He didn’t want to think about how much of himself already belonged with Han. It wasn’t exactly safe. 

_That’s your uncle talking_ , Ben’s voice seemed to taunt him over a great distance. 

There was no way around the fact that he’d left security behind the day he’d first boarded the Millennium Falcon. Fighting with the Rebellion, flying an X-wing, the mere thought of following the tradition of the Jedi... nothing that made up his new reality was safe to begin with. And the limited kind of safety that had marked life on Tatooine had been stifling in more than one way. 

“Feel okay?” Han asked, running a hand over Luke’s tousled hair. “We can go back to the Falcon and shower if you want.”

He leaned in to brush a quick kiss against Luke’s mouth, one hand coming to rest on Luke’s shoulder and lingering there. Hesitant to let go, Luke thought.

“Sounds good,” he said, forcing a casual tone. He levered up on his elbows and, drawing another deep breath, looked at the sky. His heart was still racing. 

_If there’s something you want, you just say it, straight out_ , he remembered. At least that was the theory. But something gave him the notion that in the case of Han Solo, a little more subtlety would be required. Luke felt a smile twitch on his lips and couldn’t hide it fast enough.

“What’re you thinkin’?” Han asked from the side.

Luke cocked his head and regarded him through lowered lashes. “Save my life again soon, will you? I think I’d like to owe you some more.”

* * *


End file.
